Untranquil
Feb 3rd, 2010 | By Gary Beck | Category: Poetry | 103 viewsThe roar of engines shocks the night,
wheels hum, whine, screech on darkling streets.
The clop of hooves, neighs, moo’s, cockadoodle doo’s
no longer prod our sleeping windows.
The million snarls of grumpy motors,
grumbling and complaining of the coming day,
throttle the grating voice of morning man
striving to command the dawn.
Recalcitrant machines resist
man’s jostling for control of life.
The brief doze of the city is shattered.
The sounds of drive break the last peace.
The calm thought and quiet dream is forgotten.
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